by S A Archer
Chapter Fifty-Six
London backed away from the door to the stairwell, keeping her handgun up, as Malcolm pushed past her and Peyton. She glanced over at the Sidhe, at the confidence in his walk and the undisguised grin.
He turned back around, a twinkle of excitement in his dark eyes. With a laugh, he said, “Your boyfriend thinks we’re going to get him killed.” He shrugged, like maybe he was right. Then he spun back around and shoved open one of the tall windows that opened from the spire room out into the early morning light.
“Peyton isn’t my boyfriend.” She started toward him. The Unseelie had been wild the last time they’d been near each other. He’d have killed her, if he could have. Whatever Lugh told him settled him down more than London could have imagined possible.
Malcolm jumped up onto the windowsill. He faced her and smiled again, actually enjoying this adventure. Maybe he was still a little crazy. There wasn’t the least bit of fear about him. “Donovan wouldn’t have sent us on this mission if he thought we couldn’t handle it.”
Donovan? London squinted at Malcolm, and then understood. Her Seelie patron hadn’t been kidding when he’d said she’d underestimated his ability to ‘influence’. Lugh had more tricks up his sleeve than she could even imagine.
And with that, Malcolm extended his arms out from his sides. He leaned his head back.
And dropped out the window.
“Wait!” London rushed to the window. Peyton rushed up next to her and they both watched Malcolm do a slow back layout and land on the rooftop two stories down.
“Bit of a brat, isn’t he?” Peyton stared down at him.
“He’s just lucky he didn’t break one of those hollow fey bones.” London climbed out onto the windowsill as someone started pounding on the stairwell door.
“Hollow, but strong and flexible.” Peyton climbed up next to her. He dug a length of nylon cord out of his vest pocket. “You have a rope?”
She showed him her fingerless gloves. “Something better.” Then she gripped the decorative Gothic design carved into the concrete. “Grapple.” Swinging out, dangling from her one hand, she grabbed onto the outside of the spire. Glancing down at herself, she checked her footing. She stuck to the wall without feeling any of her body weight trying to drag her down and, even when she let go of her grip, she clung to the surface.
“Spider-man doesn’t have anything on you.” Peyton looped his cord over one of the spikes in the pattern of the carving and climbed down hand-over-hand.
London just crawled backwards until she was close enough to drop safely. “Release,” she said, and caught her breath when her body weight suddenly returned and pulled her down the last bit to the roof.
As they’d climbed down to join him, Malcolm paced erratically around the roof, staring straight down at it and moving like a dog following a scent. When they joined him, he waved them to follow and rushed to the opposite corner where the door to the roof was inset into the body of another spire. “This way. There is less magic moving over here.”
Peyton jogged with London to catch up. He glanced over at her hands. “I want those gloves.”
“You couldn’t use them.” She glared back up at him. He’d been joking. At least, that had been his tone. But London didn’t put more trust in Peyton than she absolutely needed to.
Malcolm gripped the door and gave it a shake. “Locked.” Then he backed aside and waved London towards it.
“Unseal.” With a hand on Malcolm’s shoulder, she kept him back until Peyton pushed through first, his gun raised. Keeping the Sidhe between them, London followed. Malcolm might have some wicked moves, but he was hers to protect, a responsibility that she didn’t take lightly.
Chapter Fifty-Seven
Kieran sensed the change in the emotional charge as soon as he crossed through the portal. Since the creation, the portal hadn’t been left unguarded. Even if the non-fey couldn’t cross through it, the portal itself could be damaged or destroyed. The four dwarves, wearing the insignias and cloaks of the Guardians of the Realm, circled around it. They gripped their battle axes, crossbows, and swords in combat-ready stances.
The Scribe bumped into Kieran, and then gripped his forearm for balance as he peered past him. “What’s happening?”
With a hand, Kieran swept Willem towards cover. “I’m not sure. Get clear.”
Bryce jogged up the rise to the hard packed expanse where the portal overlooked the village below. Even with the new landscaping and stonework to fancy up the portal like a monument, the grass hadn’t grown beneath the trekking of so many immigrants to the new realm. Some estimated that already close to half of the fey of Ireland had passed through the portal. Flames flicked around Bryce’s fists as he drew within shouting range. “Changelings are burning and rampaging through the groves! Guardians are securing the village against attack.” He spun around, searching for the incoming attack that he expected. “Tiernan’s down. Not sure how bad.”
Kieran gathered his magic between his palms, feeling the building vibration. “Changelings took out Tiernan?”
“No,” Bryce snapped, flicking his fingers against his thumbs and making sparks. “The Seelie.”
One of the dwarves swore in Gaelic. It was one of the few phrases that Kieran knew.
In his short time with Donovan’s crew at the Glamour Club, Kieran had only encountered one Seelie. Lugh had opened a can of whoop-ass on the Earthborns when they’d gone after London. And he’d murdered a few of the elves when that dark enchantment made him ‘Eclipse’, or whatever that had been. Even when they’d gotten that under control and had worked with Lugh and his druidess for the Creation, Donovan hadn’t trusted the Seelie. And neither did Kieran.
From down the path to the village, Joe and Riley ran up to join them, armed with rifles. As his enchanted humans drew up around him, Kieran tried to fix a look of hard confidence for their sakes. “What’s in the rifles?” He asked. Not that he believed even an elephant gun could hurt Lugh.
Joe looped his wrist in the loose strap of the rifle. “Tranquilizers.”
“Strong ones?”
“Just one dart will take down a troll in seven seconds.”
Kieran nodded. He’d kill if it came to it, but that was the last option. Especially when it came to the fey. Kieran felt that to the core of his heart of magic. Right down to the root of his connection to the new realm.
Over the sound of his thundering heart, and the shuffling of the dwarves antsy for combat, a single note began to rise. A voice, beautiful and haunting.
Turning towards it, towards the rise heading to the foot of the mountain, Kieran felt the power building in the voice.
The melody which uncoiled unsettled Kieran, upsetting his stomach and gnawing at his mind. The others felt it, too. Gasps and groans struggled against the growing effect.
Next to Kieran, Joe gripped his chest with clawing fingers. He moaned a name, as if achingly familiar, “Rhiannon…”
Glamour parted like mist, revealing the dark-haired beauty. As her hands rose, the magic from her cast upward into the sky. The dawning brightness surrendered to the night she Glamoured over it, casting the entire Isle into the muted blue of moonglow.
Kieran raised his hands towards the Sidhe woman, his power silencing her song. The guardians and the other defenders shook off her effects.
But whatever other power she wielded continued to pour forth from her. Four Changelings answered her call and rushed up to her side on the ridge overlooking them.
One of the dwarves saw it first and cried out with shock as one of the Changeling’s made a sweeping gesture toward them and a hoard of goblins streamed over the ridge in a rush for the portal and anything standing in their way.
The spindly goblins, green and mostly naked, weren’t taller than the dwarves by m
uch. Their huge eyes glowed in the low light, as did their mouths full of pointed teeth. Armed with anything they could use as weapons, from pitch forks to spears, they rushed down towards them with fearless glee.
Joe fired off a round, and one of the Changelings dropped.
The dwarves rushed forth, slamming into the first of the wave of goblins with the clash of metal and bodies.
Just beyond the dwarves, Bryce flared up the grass beneath the goblins with flames, scattering the attackers, but only managing to force them into a wider front which circled around the portal.
Joe shot again, and another Changeling jerked back as the dart knocked him down.
“Aim for the woman!” Kieran ordered. Rolling out a stream of vibration, he bowled over the goblins before they could get behind the portal.
“I can’t!” Joe shouted back. The next Changeling he shot at teleported before the dart could take him out.
Riley aimed for her, but she phased into moonlight as the dart passed harmlessly through her.
Bryce flung out flaming fastballs that smashed against the goblins rushing him, barely keeping them back before more gushed into the void.
Teleporting, Kieran jumped across the space between himself and the woman. Just as she re-solidified, he appeared behind her. His kick caught her in the low back, pitching her hard to the ground.
The Changeling that slashed at him with its claws jolted and dropped as the dart hit him.
Kieran spun and dropped, feeling the vibration change in the air as something dove at him. The final Changeling flew over him, missing him with the tackle, but not with the rake of his claws that shredded Kieran’s back along with his shirt. He screamed at the acid pain. He dodged to the side, but before that last Changeling could recover to attack again, another dart hit him.
His humans protected his back, just as intensely as he’d seen London defend Lugh. There wasn’t anything insignificant in their effort. As the goblins reached them, Joe and Riley dropped into hand to hand combat as fiercely as the dwarves.
Rhiannon rolled up from where he’d knocked her. As she sprang towards him, she teleported. She reappeared just as she impacted him. Her nails tried to reach his face, but Kieran caught her wrists.
Her power rushed with the Touch into him. The pleasure and the torment shattered through him like a blast. The shock wave of his power answered, exploding from him and smashing into her. It knocked her back from him, into the air.
She vanished as if melting into the moonlight, and he couldn’t tell where she’d gone. When she didn’t immediately reappear, he struggled to his feet. Kieran shook himself, shedding the magic of her Touch intentionally. Normally, he clung to the Touch any Sidhe gave him, keeping it from fading and leaving him with the void. The poison of insanity that tried to burn into him fell away like ash from his skin, cast away from him by the Leannan inability to hold magic within him for long. Pulling on his connection to the realm renewed and cleansed him of her effects.
The goblins didn’t stop in their attack, even as their friends fell in piles around the guardians. In another moment they were all dead, fouling up the air with their stench.
Kieran teleported back down before the portal.
“Is it over?” Riley asked, glancing around at the dead goblins and unconscious Changelings.
“Don’t count on it.” Kieran said, feeling the shiver in the air as someone else teleported into the clearing. He spun towards it.
Not one man, but two, stood there.
“Lugh,” Bryce hissed the name of the Seelie whose body glowed with the trapped sunlight beneath his flesh.
Riley stumbled back a step as he looked at the men. The choked name he uttered identified the other Sidhe. “Manannan.”
Chapter Fifty-Eight
Screams jolted Tiernan awake. His cheek ached from having been face-planted against the wooden floor. Blinking, his vision blurred instead of getting better.
Outside, another scream. This one more distant. Angry shouts closer by.
Rolling onto his shoulder, Tiernan tugged at his arms. They were bound behind his back. Twisting around, he managed to lean up enough to get a sense of where he was.
A wood elf’s tree lodge. He could even feel the hint of the sway in the wind. A fluttering cloth covered the open doorway. As it shifted he caught the glimpse of fast movement outside.
More shouts reached him. The scent of blood and gunpowder stung at his senses.
Movement from the shadowed corner startled him. At first glance, he’d thought he was alone.
“You’re never alone,” the shadow answered, as if hearing Tiernan’s thoughts.
“I’m hallucinating,” he told himself, struggling to sit up.
As the man rose to his feet and crossed closer the blurriness cleared.
Tiernan blinked up at him. “Now, I know I am dreaming.”
With an amused smile, Donovan crouched down before Tiernan. His very real hand caught Tiernan’s shoulder and helped him to sit up. The warmth of his Touch melted through the chilled power of the moon. “The Changelings are slicing through the defenses. Don’t let them slaughter the fey.”
Tiernan glanced to the side. His thoughts reassembled, like waking from a nightmare. Not even a fragment out of place. The remembrance of Rhiannon, and her Changeling, filled his thoughts. Bryce had warned them about Changelings. He looked back into Donovan’s eyes.
Or he would have.
Donovan was gone. If he’d even been there at all.
Clarity glistened through his awareness. Clarity and purpose.
Tiernan pressed his bound hands beneath his bum and brought them past his legs before him. Just ropes. They’d not even used silver.
His power shivered from within, reaching out around him. Every bit of metal in the lodge glimmered in his awareness. With the pull of his will, it rose up into the air. Among the bits and bobs, a single pocket knife tumbled in a slow orbit.
Tiernan grasped it with his magic and it flew to him. In moments it sawed through the ropes enough for him to twist free of them. Scrambling to his feet, he flung himself forward. Tearing aside the cloth, he stared out into the woods.
Outside, the screams reached him over the crackle of the flames licking through the canopy. Beneath him, Changelings bound through the trees as fast and skilled as the wood elves and fairies. Gripping the sides of the doorframe, Tiernan reached out to the limits of his power. Loose metal throughout the grove rose up into the air like a mismatched metal army.
Whipping it into a swarm, Tiernan drew on the power feeding into him from the realm. The essence of Donovan that yet lingered hummed through it. And somehow, that magic knew…
It knew which of the fey in the battle were Changelings and which were not.
Trusting to the guidance, Tiernan cast the metal into a fury. The deadly wind of his magic crashed through the trees, weaving in and out to batter against the Changelings.
Casting himself into the flow of his magnetic storm, Tiernan whipped into flight. Cutting in and out of the trunks, he dodged attacks and limbs with equal grace. Every Changeling his eyes or his awareness caught his metal swarm crashed through. Following the shouts and screams, he beat back the worst of the onslaught and the fighters among the wood elves and fairies cleared out the rest.
Tiernan dropped onto a wide limb, and searched for any more foes.
“There you are,” Cormac said, hopping down onto the limb next to him. “Had trouble tracking you and fighting the Changelings at the same time.” His evaluating gaze swept over Tiernan, apparently surprised to find him lucid after Rhiannon’s attack. “You alright, then?”
Tiernan didn’t have the time nor temperament to answer questions. He shouted to him, “Help get the flames under control!”
Without th
e army of Changelings to stop them, the fey should be able to handle that. Already those fey with influence over the weather and storms gathered dark clouds over the island.
The first fat drops of rain splashed down into the canopy as Tiernan jumped into the wind, catching his clothing and propelling himself forth. Rhiannon was out there somewhere, wielding her madness like a weapon.
And he’d find her!
Chapter Fifty-Nine
They descended the stairs rapidly, Malcolm barely staying contained behind Peyton. London didn’t know much about his aspect of magic, except that Malcolm could be dangerous with it. Especially to other fey. What he could do against wizards and their magic, or to armed humans, she wasn’t entirely sure. The acrobatics and the fighting moves she’d seen him use meant he wasn’t helpless, but he wasn’t armed with anything either. Not even the knife he’d threaten her with in the past.
When Peyton passed the exit to the 8th floor, Malcolm veered off. “There’s fey this way.”
Peyton’s hand shot out and gripped Malcolm’s wrist. “Not live fey.”
The dark expression that shadowed Malcolm’s features was more the look London remembered about him. He turned his head, and squinted at the door before them as if he considered this. Then he jerked his arm free. “You’re right. Let’s go.” He shoved at Peyton, getting him to move or get out of his way.
London passed them up and hurried down the next flight. “The fey are on the next floor.”
“Watch for the Tac Team.” Peyton warned. His words barely reached her before the whole building gave a shudder. Wedging past Malcolm, he added. “And the wizards.”
